


Distracting Ian

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [209]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's never deliberately missed the Olympics before, and Quinn wants to make up for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distracting Ian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the MA List  
> Travis for posting to the MA Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> Related Arcadias:  
> [Olympics at Alder Run](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168902)  
> [Irish Cream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168902)  
> [Wading In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276140)  
> [A Visitor from Hoth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397048)

Quinn was glad that the gymnastics season had gotten off to a flying start for the Luke Skyhawks, with the team winning their first two meets of the year. It was helping to distract Ian from his melancholy over the Sochi Winter Olympics, which they had decided not to watch at all, the first time they had ever deliberately skipped the Games, since watching their first Summer Olympics together back in 2004.

Both of them had done all they could to counter the laws discriminating against LGBT people in Russia; they attended peaceful protests at Luke, donated to humanitarian causes, written respectful letters to the sponsors, and Ian had even gotten Coach Rance's permission to wear "Principle 6" clothing to practices and meets, to call attention to the Olympic Charter, which promised non-descrimination.

Usually, watching the Olympics together was one of their great joys, anticipated for months, watched for hours, and avidly discussed. So many good times on their sofa recliner, where the Games on television would often lead to more intimate games of their own. Ian was never sexier than when he inspired their bedroom gymnastics, after all.

So to see his crestfallen face at 8 p.m. that Friday night, when they would normally have started watching the opening ceremonies, made Quinn resolve to do his best to cheer his laddie up. They had just finished their course preparations for the evening, and when Quinn came out of his office, he headed off his husband's trajectory towards the couch in the best possible way -- with an embrace.

Quinn tucked Ian's head into his chest and just held him for a moment. He nuzzled into copper curls and rubbed his lad's stiff back through his Aran cream cable-knit sweater. Smiling, Quinn remembered when his Aunt Kathleen had sent it, along with a larger one for him. Quinn wore a Skyhawks sweatshirt in his favorite heather-grey, and the two fabrics slid cozily into each other, just like the men themselves.

"Ah, you've been working too long, lad." Quinn continued his massage.

Ian looked up at him with a tired half-smile. "The semester's already in hyperdrive."

"Know just what you mean," chuckled Quinn. "So let's take a nice break together."

"Sounds good," said Ian with a grin. "Do you have anything in mind?"

Quinn grinned back. "I was thinking of having a go with the Nerf paddleball set we got for Lelia and Han to play with a couple of years back."

"Sounds like fun, if you can just figure out where it is." Ian gave his herven a squeeze.

"I might've put it in the garage when we cleaned up for our New Year's Eve party," Quinn said doubtfully.

They both started to laugh at the same time; since they didn't have an attic or basement, the garage ended up with all of the jumble that naturally accumulated through the years, so their home could remain relatively neat and uncluttered.

"Good luck finding it, Sir Hillary," drawled Ian as he gave Quinn a smart salute.

This set Quinn to laughing again. "I wish!" he finally said with a winning smile. "At least then I'd feel right at home with the temperatures inside our garage at this time of year."

Ian said, "It does make Hoth feel like a tropical paradise, doesn't it?"

"That it does, lad. But I was thinking that you might like to join me on my expedition," Quinn replied.

"Hmm," said Ian, pretending to think about it.

Quinn rumbled, "I promise to keep you warm."

"You're warming me up already," Ian purred, burrowing closer into his husband.

"Am I now, laddie?" Quinn purred back as he savored the man in his arms. He couldn't resist giving Ian a peck on his nose.

"Okay, you've convinced me." Ian said. "Let's try to find it together."

Reluctantly disentangling a bit, while keeping their arms around each other, they set out for the frozen wilds of the garage. On the way, they snagged their jackets from the hooks by the back door and put them on. Sandy gave a whuff when they opened the door into the garage.

It was just as cold as they had expected -- a typical February night in Upstate New York. Ian had the temerity to check the thermometer on the wall, and gave out a sardonic chuckle when he saw that it was 5 degrees in there. Two sets of grey steel shelves lined the side walls. Quinn had assembled them, just as he had done with the shelving in his bachelor apartment, before he'd met Ian.

They each searched one set, burrowing their way through years of sedimentation, or sedimentary accumulation. Tennis and badminton rackets, the dismantled hammock, boxes of old exams and lecture notes, packets of flower seeds, a garden hose, sprinkler, the tool chest... Ah, here it was -- Quinn saw the fluorescent green ball peeking out from the back corner of the bottom shelf. While he pulled it out, Ian smiled when he found a treasure of his own -- the deflated wading pool they'd bought for Lelia and Han, in which the men had made private memories of their own. He felt a bit warmer already.

After they returned to the coziness of their living room, they decided to have hot chocolate at the kitchen table, rather than start playing right away. Ian put the kettle on, while Quinn got the cocoa and marshmallows from the cupboard next to the dishwasher. They decided to use the mugs Case had given them for Christmas, sky blue with dark green Star Wars lettering in boldface, stating simply, "Episode VII. Quinn poured a finishing splash of Bushmills whiskey into their mugs and brought them to the table, as Ian took out a few of Ginny's oatmeal-butterscotch cookies and put them on a plate between their drinks. They sat down to enjoy their treat. Mini-marshmallows melting on his tongue, Quinn sipped his hot chocolate contentedly, while Ian chewed his cookie.

Artoo began snuffling in his basket, roused by the sound of his dads having their snack. When Ian heard Artoo stirring, he replaced the pups' bowls of food and water with fresh ones. Just in time, as the adorable Chihuahua went straight to his water bowl, then jumped into Quinn's lap to cuddle and to be cuddled. Ian grinned at the tender  
tableau -- Quinn's big hands covered most of Artoo as they ran over his warm, soft fur.

After a couple of moments of pure bliss, Artoo jumped down to the floor to continue his nap, leaving Quinn to continue sipping his hot chocolate. He mused that it was lucky Sandy was still asleep -- the last time he'd gotten his snout into the marshmallows, there was chaos in the kitchen, with little white dots decorating Sandy's face and  
strewn all over the floor. Of course, he thought fondly, Artoo was perfectly capable of the same mischief, but luckily, Quinn had put the marshmallows away before Artoo had even woken up.

Quinn could tell that their expedition to the garage had already cheered Ian up; the grin which exuded his natural charm was back in force.

"Ah, I love your version of Irish cocoa." Ian sighed in bliss. He scraped his chair closer to his husband's, to get within hugging range.

"A wee bit of Bushmills makes almost anything better," said Quinn with satisfaction, as he put his arm around Ian.

"I'm warm inside and out now," Ian murmured, his voice so low that Artoo didn't even twitch.

Quinn gave him a little squeeze. "So am I, laddie."

"And I have a feeling we're gonna get warmer still." Ian turned his face up for a kiss.

In over ten years, Quinn had never missed the opportunity to share a kiss with Ian, and he was not about to start now. He began with a peck to the wide nose, then went for the delectable lips made even more delicious by hot chocolate.

Ian made a sound between a purr and a moan, which Quinn ate up with more gusto than his mother's cookies. Their kiss was an irresistable combination of hot and sweet, just like the cocoa.

When Quinn had finished washing the dishes, with Ian alongside him drying them, Ian asked, "Are you ready for our game?"

"I am now. If that wasn't a kiss for luck, what is?" Quinn winked at him.

Ian winked back. "No wonder you chose Bushmills instead of rum tonight -- the luck of the Irish."

Quinn groaned in delight. Only a happy Ian could make such dreadful puns. "This'll be better than the Olympics, laddie mine."

"What Olympics?" drawled Ian.


End file.
